


It's Always Us

by jeoseung



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Western, F/M, Gen, High Noon AU, Reconciliation, nothing like good ol' devil huntin' and sleepin' on your ass in the desert, to rekindle a relationship back from the dead!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:14:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28910676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeoseung/pseuds/jeoseung
Summary: After the destruction of Eden, the war between humans and devils rages on in the untamed west. Lucian, a wandering mercenary with a hell of a chip on his shoulder, is on the frontlines of this conflict, relentlessly pursuing devils on the edges of the unknown frontier.And one devil in particular has the misfortunate of Lucian's attention.Few things have ever gotten between Lucian and his quest for vengeance, but that all changes when a ghost of his past reappears before him looking as if not a day has gone by. Suddenly, he's roped into something more than he bargained for—and never mind the devil hunting, or the soul saving, or even the God damn reviving of the entirety of Heaven. No, what's really more than Lucian can chew on is that his one and only love has returned from the dead, and now he has to remember how to feel anything but anger anymore—has to remember how to love her. If he can. If he evenwantsto.Well, Senna is nothing if not persistent.
Relationships: Lucian/Senna (League of Legends)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	It's Always Us

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and thanks for taking a look at my fic! As you have likely guessed, this is a Lucian/Senna-centric fic set in the High Noon verse. This generally follows the lore of the released side-stories Riot released in association with the High Noon verse ("The Man with the Grinning Shadow", "With Hell Before Them"), although of course there will be some liberties I take and reinterpretations that will occur. I don't anticipate I will be making any explicit references to the aforementioned works, but they definitely served as great inspiration for this story. 
> 
> The title is a very not-subtle reference to High Noon Senna's in-game voice line to High Noon Lucian: "It's always us, fightin' side by side." 
> 
> At the moment, the only characters I know for sure that will show up other than Lucian and Senna are Ashe and Thresh. Some other characters will definitely make it in as cameos or in story arcs, but since I haven't narrowed down who to keep and who to cut, I have abstained from listing any for now. 
> 
> I don't anticipate any archive warnings applying for this fic, but I will update if that changes. 
> 
> Finally, I have some real-life commitments that prevent me from promising incredibly regular updates, however I do hope to at least sporadically update this and keep it going. Still, I felt it prudent to put forth that regular updates will be unlikely for this fic. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this prologue. If you'd like to contact me for some reason outside of AO3, you may reach me at my personal Tumblr, thevsn.

She came with the rising sun.

The weather-worn and sun-bleached townspeople spotted her first. They were veterans of the old war, long-since retired, and having left the conflict to the next generation, spent their remaining days seated on their porches and staring off into the endless horizon in their border town—the edge of civilization. Everyday, this old guard watched the sun rise and set, witnessing the passage of time and another day humans had lived. They were the first line of defense, the first watch.

Rarely did the old guard witness anything of note, but on this fateful morning, a single, black dot marred their typical view of the fat, white sun. The four veterans squinted against the light, scars and wrinkles crinkling, but being unsure the entity was ally or enemy, opted to say nothing and simply observe. Slowly, throughout the morning, the black dot grew in size, and soon clear shapes appeared: the brim of a wide hat, slight shoulders, the gait of a horse. At first glance, it was just another cowboy—but rarely were things as meets the eye these days. From the direction this stranger rode was no more than uncharted territory, wild and untamed and crawling with devilry. Only the most foolish or the most desperate venture out into such a frontier—so which was this stranger: a foolhardy friend or fiendish foe?

The sun had risen high into the sky by the time the stranger broached the gates of their humble town. From their perch, the elders were able to get a good look at her: a woman dressed in dark leather, face half-shrouded by the wide brim of her hat. Her long hair was tied in dreadlocks and cascaded down her back, the tips tinged with a strange, ethereal orange-yellow glow that seemed to seep off of her and trail off into the early-morning air. There was the clear, if faint, touch of _something_ upon her—something heavenly. Something _old._ Something beyond that of the realm these elders knew, but had encountered plenty of times in their glory days.

But while the stranger seemed to effuse the qualities of something higher, the steed upon which she rode was anything but. It was a terrible creature made of rippling metal that clinked and rattled as it rode through the town’s dust-choked streets. From between the sheets of metal plates that made up its body, they could see the crimson-orange flame burning within it like a furnace. Its very mane and tail seemed that of black smoke, and when it turned to regard the watchers on their posts, its eyes glowed a hellish red.

The stranger did not say anything nor acknowledged anyone as she guided her steed through the town. Slowly, the old guard rose from their seats and trailed behind her. They made their presence known, but did not approach—not yet. While the west may have been wild, those in these parts did not, at least, take action without due reason. However, neither did they stand idly by. This stranger would be treated fairly, as all manner of creature had been in this town, but she could be assured punishment for a single toe out of line would be swift and unforgiving.

The stranger made no trouble as she rode through the town, although the mechanical whinnies and metallic clinking of her horse still attracted the attention of passersby. In the end, by the time the stranger arrived at the saloon in town, half the populace had wandered after her—half out of caution and half out of curiosity.

Upon arriving at the entrance of the saloon, the stranger dismounted her horse and put a hand on its muzzle. She murmured a few words to it under her breath, too quiet for anyone to hear, but upon hearing them, the horse gave a whinny and shuddered. Then, before everyone’s eyes, the horse deconstructed. The townsfolk audibly gasp and step back as metal plates cascade apart and back together from the shape of a horse to that of a huge gun. Its barrel was nearly as large as the woman who hefted it and casually slung it onto her back. Then, without nary a glance at the onlookers, the stranger strode right inside the saloon.

At this early in the day, the saloon was empty—or, more empty than usual, as even on its busiest nights, the small numbers of this town never was truly enough to fill the establishment. Regardless, the barkeep was present. He was diligently shining the glasses at the bar when he looked up to find the stranger stroll inside with a gun nearly as big as a man. To his credit, he did not blink (he had likely seen far stranger pass through here), just set down the glass and asked, “How may I help you, ma’am?”

For a moment, the stranger did not say anything, just approached the stools at the bar and took a seat. In due course, some of the townsfolk entered the bar as well—and did so well-armed now that they saw the piece the stranger held. Still, she did not flinch as she set her gun barrel down on the floor and leaned the giant thing upon the bar.

“Give me the strongest of whatever you got in stock,” the stranger said at last. She tugged at the brim of her hat, as if to ensure it still hid her face. “If you please.”

“Certainly.” The barkeep turned and reached for one of the round bottles filled with amber liquid in the shelves behind him. He undid the cork, which made an audible _pop_ , and poured a finger’s worth into a glass.

“And some water,” the stranger said as she took the glass, nodded her appreciation, and kicked it back. Wordlessly, the barkeep procured a tin mug and filled it with water from a barrel.

“M’thanks,” the stranger muttered before downing the water as well. After she took her last gulp, she gave a heavy, appreciative sigh before turning to face the townsfolk that gathered there. At this, they flinch, and some palm their weapons, ready to draw.

“Y’all can calm down,” the stranger held up a gloved hand. “I ain’t here lookin’ for trouble.”

The townsfolk glanced at each other, uncertain. At last, one man asked, “With respect ma’am, ain’t no one come from the direction you did that _weren’t_ lookin’ for trouble.”

“Most don’t make it back at all,” another woman added, and the room rumbled its assent. “That place is devil territory, is what it is. Every man, woman, and creature that roll through here intendin’ to head out there either were sick with the need for glory or nursin’ some serious personal vendetta against them demons out there.”

“Well, that works out swell,” said the stranger, “since it so happens that I’m lookin’ for someone that ventured out there—and judgin’ by your description, it would seem he is indeed one of such individuals that would’ve passed through this here town.”

“Oh, yeah?” snorted the first man. “And which one was he, then? A glory-grabbin’ idiot or vindictive bastard?”

“Ain’t that the question?” the stranger smiled a little from underneath the brim of her hat. She seemed almost fond. “But one thing’s for certain: he wouldn’t have died out there. He’d have come back.”

“That certainly narrows it down,” a third scoffed. “Well, then, who’s this mystery man, ma’am, and why’s he so interestin’ to you?”

For a moment, the stranger was silent, and the smile she had just moments before had disappeared. The townsfolk look at each other once again.

“Never you mind what he is to me,” the stranger said at last. “A woman’s still allowed her privacy, ain’t she? All I need is information on where he last went when y’all saw him.”

“And you got a name?” the third man pressed.

A beat.

“His name is Lucian.”


End file.
